You have to wait a while for Julie Wilson to make her way to the Rrazz Room stage, but what the heck? We've waited a decade or so - 45 minutes more or so won't kill us.

Julie Wilson, one of the greatest boite singers of the past 50 years, is, as they say, of a certain age (she was born in '24). The most elegant of song stylists, she's always been known for her distinctive phrasing, her extraordinary ability to swing from Porter to Sondheim and, of course, the trademark gardenia in her hair.

At Tuesday's Rrazz opening (she's there through Sunday), she was dressed in a slinky black sequined number, black gloves, oversize black boa, and - oh why not: on her, it works - black athletic shoes. Tiny and angular, her beaming face was all but dwarfed by the gardenia this time. But if her body has diminished a bit over the years, her ability to grab an audience and not let go certainly has not.

Is the voice unmarked by the passage of time? Truth to tell, it is not, but I dare you to care as she finds the story and, even more, the heart in classics such as "My Old Flame," "But Beautiful," "Mean to Me," Brecht/Weill's soap opera in song, "Surabaya Johnny," and Rodgers and Hart's "The Lady Is a Tramp."

She doesn't always remember the lyrics, but fortunately has pianist/musical director Christopher Denny right there to provide a gentle cue.

Perhaps the greatest testimony to Wilson's indomitability is what she does with "Here's to Life." This is a song that virtually anyone who's beyond the spring-chicken stage of life can sing (and seemingly has) with facile credibility - so much so that, more often than not, it can feel tired and even predictable. But in a talk-sing delivery, Wilson is able to breathe new life into the Artie Butler/Phyllis Molinary chestnut in a way that makes every other version you've heard sound as heartfelt as a TV antacid commercial.

Wilson briefly shares the bill with Barbra Streisand impersonator Steven Brinberg, an entertaining performer whose "Simply Barbra" act (named for the early "light blue" album) skates carefully along the line between homage and spoof.

Even for a woman, it's daring to try to approximate Streisand's titantic pipes, but Brinberg often captures her phrasing, especially in slower, midrange numbers. He's less convincing when essaying barn-burners like "Don't Rain on My Parade" and "Let's Hear It For Me," not quite reaching the power level necessary to blast those higher-register notes.

His best number is "I'm Still Here," where he offers snippets of the Sondheim song in other voices - Ethel Merman, Eartha Kitt, Cher, Bette Davis. Compared to Streisand, those are all "easier" voices and he nails them beautifully.

He knows better than to try a Julie Wilson, of course. She is inimitable.